Jared stared into the fire, his cold, silver eyes trailing along the path of the flame. It crackled and reared upwards, brushing past the logs but not catching onto them. Slipping over and over again, he watched it, commanding the fire not to grasp it.
"Sir", a younger male said from behind him.
The fire grappled onto the log, slithering upwards and staying firm, dancing on the wood. Jared bit his lip, and his eyes tapered.
"The power of insulation", he murmured dully. "Quite the powerful spell; some have used it from stopping whole fires from burning down. But that is almost unimaginable force- too great for myself."
"Yes, sir, quite useful", the other male replied softly, tapping his foot on the wooden floor. The firelight slunk across his face, making his glossy black hair a silver color.
Jared nodded, chewing on the side of his mouth. He didn't say another word.
"Um- sir- the slayers are advancing. We fear their arrival may come within the day. We have several troupes of werewolves coming in, and our vampires are assembled- do you have any word on the matter?"
"Of course I do!"
Jared quickly spun around, an angry look in his wide eyes. His hands were balled into fists, and his breathing was heavy.
The other vampire [whose name happened to be Artemis] did not quiver. "Then what is it?" he asked firmly, cocking his head sideways.
Jared smiled, and some of his tension was released. He turned back around. The fire was quickly extinguished with an abrupt flick of his hand. He plopped himself into a reddish-brown armchair to his side.
"My advice is"- he took a deep breathe. "Stay alive. You're the commander for now. Wake me up when the whole damn thing is done."
"But sir, I hardly have any training! I'm only a soldier and I"-
"Shut up and go kick some slayer ass!"
"Yes sir", Artemis said glumly, and he strode out of the room.
Jared, however, was preparing for a rather deep sleep.
The moment Xavier sensed a slight aura of life, his hands shot from the ground and up, into something hard and slightly frizzylike dust.He let out a strained breath, eyes widening, tongue rolling against his teeth. His long, spindly, white fingers slid against what felt to be a wooden frame. He harshly gripped the edges, strength flowing through the quickest movements. Creeeaaakkkk, a painful noise flew through the air.
Xavier creased his teeth against his lower lip, eyes scrunched. Sunlight, he thought irritably. But something peculiar was happening. The sunlight did not pierce his skin in any way, shape, or form. Of course, the uncomfortable feeling of natural light slipped down his back and up his arms, but it didn't kill him. The prophecy? he thought, raising and eyebrow.
He shrugged the thought off [although he didn't completely forget it, it was an important matter to ponder on in later times] and rolled his shoulders back. He was alive at last! Free from the austerely grip of death, free from the fiery clutches of hell! He was free.
And how he died is another matter.